


there's a place where you dream you'd never find

by green_piggy



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aromantic Character, Aromantic Claude von Riegan, Asexual Character, Asexual Claude von Riegan, Character Study, Found Family, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Trans Claude von Riegan, Trans Male Character, and i got ASKED to write this!!! incredible!!!, basically me projecting my aroace ass onto claude, idk what else to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23635597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_piggy/pseuds/green_piggy
Summary: All people ever seemed to focus on was romance and everything that came with it.Claude didn't get it, and not from a lack of trying to understand. To fit in. Tobelong.
Relationships: Golden Deer Students & Claude von Riegan, Hilda Valentine Goneril & Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 22
Kudos: 96





	there's a place where you dream you'd never find

**Author's Note:**

> To the lovely martina, who was the winner of my 350 follower giveaway on twitter and asked me to write a fic that i, uh, probably would have written anyway!! they do fantastic cosplays and is just a wonderful person in general, [check out their twitter!!](https://twitter.com/mechonion)
> 
> i was asked to write asexual claude, and 5k later, here we are! i love him dearly and he reads as very strongly aroace to me so i was DELIGHTED to write this~ it's literally just projection but isn't that what fics are all about?
> 
> hope you enjoy~

Claude only remembered his meeting with the professor after the hourglass he'd explicitly set to remind himself had long since finished pouring.

When he glanced over and saw it, his quill still scribbling in his notebook, he startled and gathered everything together in a terrible rush. He made sure to hide his research - he may have been used to skeptical glances and hushed whispers, but that didn’t mean he wanted to add fire to them. He darted out of the library in a whirlwind of stationary and pages, leaving in his wake a baffled Lysithea.

Byleth was waiting in their usual spot, cups and snacks spread out. He inhaled the chamomile wafting from the teapot as he slid into his seat. His books thudded on the ground, bumping against his knee when he pulled his chair in.

"So sorry I'm late!" he grinned. "I was doing research and completely lost track of time."

"You needn't apologise." Byleth almost looked  _ amused. _ Any hint of expression was hidden by the teacup at their mouth. "You tend to lose yourself in your books. I was expecting you to be a bit late."

It was a strange feeling, being equal parts touched and disappointed in himself. He was used to being the one who planned around other people, not…  _ them  _ planning for  _ him.  _ Being that predictable wasn't good..

As he did with everything, he flashed a smile. His eyes scanned the table; there were none of the buns or sweets that had been there the last time they shared tea. Instead, there were a small selection of tiny biscuits and starchy snacks, along with slices of cheese on a plate. He raised an eyebrow.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you don't seem to like sweets, so I brought food I thought you'd prefer." Byleth tilted their head. "If I'm wrong…"

"Nah, not at all." He plucked a random snack between his fingers and cracked it in half. Nothing looked weird, and it smelt fine, but…

Something flashed in Byleth's eyes, an emotion he didn't care to name. Leaning forward, chair squeaking, they grabbed a snack near the one that he had taken and scoffed it in one bite.

He  _ hated  _ himself for instinctively relaxing, and hated even more that Byleth could read him that easily. That they could understand  _ anyone, _ and still… still  _ belong.  _ Still fit into the monastery so well despite being such an obvious outsider. Everybody loved them. They never pushed or asked any uncomfortable questions, but they still _ knew,  _ while he—

Flakes of the snack scattered to the table cloth. Claude inhaled, loosened his tense grip, and gnawed on the edge of the snack. A small hint of spice. Rather tasty. Nothing suspicious.

"What were you researching?"

_ Nothing at all,  _ he wanted to say, but a part of him always felt bad for lying to his professor. They hadn't done anything to him (yet). Hadn't hurt him or mocked him or belittled him. They treated him just as they would any other person.

"...Promise you won't laugh," he said. Byleth raised their eyebrows, pouring themselves another cup of chamomile from the pot before drinking it. When they did, Claude finished off his snack and poured himself his first cup.

"I won't."

They sat in silence as Claude sipped at his tea. It was the perfect temperature, leaving a pleasant warmth to pool in his stomach. The scent relaxed him more than most things did.

"...I'm looking up various romantic tales throughout history," he said. "Not related to any assignments or upcoming exams, of course! Just something I'm interested in. Did you know that there are several records claiming that Pan was in love with Loog, and that's why he never desired for anything else? The Luna Knight as well!" He caught himself with a sheepish smile. "I, ah, won't bore you with the details, but there are  _ tons  _ of fascinating tales." Most of them were banned from the church's library, but the professor didn't need to know that.

"Oh?" They blinked twice rapidly, which was as much surprise as Claude had ever seen them express. "I wouldn't have taken that as something you'd be interested in."

_ Probably not for the reasons you'd suspect,  _ he thought. He let his smile wrap around the brim of the cup. "What about you, Teach? Anybody at all catch your eye? You're pretty popular." He hoped he didn't sound as bitter as he thought he did. "Fellow teachers, knights, even the gatekeeper… people are practically throwing themselves at your feet."

"Do you think so?" Another sequence of blinks. Byleth took a small, hesitant drink. "I wouldn't know. I don't care for such things."

"Ah, I should have guessed." Claude's cup clinked against the table. "No harm intended, Teach. You just don't seem to care about many things."

"I care about my  _ students,"  _ came their firm voice. "Not romantically, of course. But I do."

"I hope not!" Claude laughed. "I should apologise." Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table and his chin atop his hand. "But not at all?"

"I've never really thought about it."

"But  _ everyone  _ wants a partner, don't they?" Claude drummed the fingers of his other hand against the table. "The 'other half' to complete them, as the teachings of the goddess claim."

"I knew nothing of the church until very recently."

He laughed. "I'd maybe recommend  _ not _ saying that so loudly."

Byleth shrugged. "It's the truth." They went back to their tea.

Externally, Claude did the same with an easy smile, smothering down everything else. Jealousy wasn't something he'd allowed himself to feel for a long,  _ long _ time. But here he was, drowning in it.

Claude had to immerse himself in a religion he didn't even believe in. He had to teach himself as much about Fódlan as possible in less than two years. He worked so,  _ so  _ hard to be accepted. Yet, he failed, again and again, for factors he had no control over.

Byleth didn't. They didn't try. They didn't even express  _ emotions. _ And yet they had everybody hanging off their every word (and how few of those they said!). It was as if their mere  _ existence  _ was enough.

And not just that…

Ever since coming to Fódlan, Claude had been keenly aware that there was something  _ wrong  _ with him. In Almyra, it wasn't unusual to have multiple partners, for how could anybody possibly contain all their love for only one person? His father adored all of his siblings' mothers, and they all loved one another in return.

It was still unusual to  _ not  _ love anyone. To not feel the tug of romance or the thrill of passion, but Claude had been Khalid, and Khalid had been a child growing up alongside his dreams and assassinations. Romance had barely even been an afterthought. The few things it did fleetingly enter his mind, it was always quickly dismissed with  _ "I'll feel something when I'm older". _

But then he got to Fódlan, and Khalid became Claude, and Claude felt nothing.

Right from the first week at the monastery, the corridors had been aflutter with talk of people about who they found attractive and cute. It was so odd! They found the  _ strangest  _ of things attractive. He'd seen people swoon over Hubert.  _ Hubert,  _ who looked as if he spent all three hours of sleep he got each night in a coffin.

And everyone seemed so  _ obsessed  _ with it. Lorenz's relentless pursuit of the 'perfect noblewoman' had put Claude right off him at first, with how much he blathered on about it. Even people like Leonie and Ignatz, usually so focused on work and matters that were actually meaningful, got caught up in chatter about their crushes. That was to say  _ nothing  _ of the noises he often heard coming from Sylvain's room; he remembered asking Dimitri one night to tell Sylvain to  _ please  _ keep whatever the hell he was doing down, some of them had to do work. Dimitri's face had gone through ten different shades of red before he squeaked out just  _ what  _ had been causing said noises.

Every time Claude thought about…  _ that,  _ he felt disgusted. Gross. How could anyone find  _ that  _ kind of stuff enjoyable? It sounded horrible. He couldn't think of anything worse. He couldn’t understand the urge to - get into bed with another, flesh against flesh, kissing and cuddling and everything else that came after. He’d read up on it until he was up to his eyeballs in pages, and he still didn’t  _ understand.  _ What could possibly be attractive about  _ any  _ of it? And it was all people ever seemed to talk about.

But, rather quickly, he grew to realise that he was very possibly the only one like that. Everyone else wanted a partner to kiss and lie in bed with, to swoon over, to whisper sweet nothings and to never be apart from.

Claude didn't.

Surely he should have felt  _ something  _ for  _ someone  _ by now?

_ Was  _ there something wrong with him? Was some part of him missing?  _ Broken?  _ It sure felt like it.

"Claude?" came Byleth's soft voice.

"Huh? What is it?"

He shook himself and looked up. Steam had long since stopped drifting from his cup. Byleth looked - almost  _ concerned. _

"You've been quiet for a while," they said.

"Everything's fine," he said with a small laugh and a smile, even as it felt as though his insides were being torn apart by poison. Perhaps that was from his overthinking mind, or maybe he needed to take off his binder. He kept wearing it for far too long. "Just thinking."

Byleth's frown didn't cease, but they said nothing.

It was an awkward tea time. Claude made his excuses and left as soon as he was done with his cold drink, snacks left untouched. He could feel Byleth's eyes boring into his back with every step.

He needed to get back to his research. To  _ another  _ type of research. He might be sick if he had to look at another stupid sappy story.

* * *

"What's gotten  _ you  _ into such a sour mood?"

Claude blinked. Hilda had stopped painting his nails and was staring at him with a look that he wasn't sure if it was concern or annoyance. Knowing her, it was probably a mixture of both.

"There's nothing wrong," he said, smiling - she immediately groaned. People nearby shot them a dirty look. "Keep it down, would ya?"

"You're smiling even more than usual. It's freaky. Cut it out." She dipped the brush back into the bottle with a rattle. They  _ were  _ meant to be studying for their upcoming axe exam, but Claude knew that he'd pass, and Hilda only agreed to study if she got to do his nails. It wasn't like he minded, so here they were, tucked away in a shadowed corner opposite the fishing pond. Far enough that no one else could hear them, but close enough that they could see people come and go. That suited Claude just fine.

"I thought I  _ told  _ you you didn't need to pretend around me," Hilda grumbled. She pulled on Claude's index finger and got to work, lavishing it with a peculiar gold that shimmered in the sunlight. It reminded him of Almyra. His chest tightened with an odd feeling. "But whatever. You do you, I guess."

"Like you're one to talk."

Hilda rolled her eyes, but she was smiling a bit. Later, he would blame the treacherous guilt nibbling at his heart for why he’d said anything at all.

"Do you have a crush on anyone?" he blurted out.

Laughter snorted from Hilda. She clamped a hand over her mouth quickly and muted herself before anyone heard, her body shaking.

"Alright," he whined, making a show of pulling away, "if you're just gonna be like that—"

"No,  _ noooooo,  _ wait! I'm sorry!" Hilda tugged at his wrist, seeming to forget that she could easily dislocate it. "You just surprised me! I didn't think  _ you  _ were the kinda guy to get hung up on - on  _ crushes." _

"I don't have a crush!" he hissed. "That's—"  _ kind of the problem,  _ he had to stop himself from saying.

Hilda arched a perfect eyebrow, but didn't push.

"I suppose I have  _ one…"  _ she murmured. "But you have to do me a favour. And no telling anybody else!"

Claude rested a hand over his chest and gave as gaudy a bow as he could. "Dear Lady Goneril, I assure you that your deepest, darkest secrets will never leave my lips."

"You're so  _ weird,  _ you know that!" she said with a quiet laugh, slapping his shoulder. It made his chest ache, but he knew that Hilda didn't mean it in a bad way. Still…

She moved onto his middle finger. "I suppose I can tell you. Knowing you, you've probably worked it out."

"Marianne?"

Hilda's dreamy sigh was the only response he needed.

"She's just so  _ cute,"  _ Hilda mused. "I know she's… going through a lot of stuff right now. I don't want to pressure her or anything. I just wanna help!"

"Hmm." Claude held out his ring finger for Hilda to move onto. He didn't want to say that he could understand Marianne's situation and mindset a lot more than he was comfortable admitting. She was an outsider, just as he was, albeit in vastly different ways. He'd seen her praying to the goddess, lipping words she thought nobody could read, and it made his heart ache with both empathy and sympathy. "Why do you find her cute?"

Hilda's eyes almost popped out of their sockets. "How is she  _ not  _ cute!?" she gushed. “The way she does her hair—”

“Her hair’s messy!” Claude pointed out. “It’s always out of its braid. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t do it daily.”

“It’s still cute, Claude, what are you  _ talking  _ about?” She actually sneered at him a little, although that was probably less due to him being the way he was and more because he had implied that Marianne was less than perfect. Like  _ anyone  _ was perfect! “It’s a lovely shade of blue! Like those birds she’s always talking to.”

“It’s not nice to eavesdrop, Hilda.”

“Are  _ you,  _ of  _ all  _ people,  _ really  _ telling me off for being nosy?  _ Really?”  _ She sounded genuinely annoyed. Claude winced internally. He’d only been trying to  _ understand,  _ and yet, here he was. Bothering yet another person just because he was that different and strange. It was something he took pride in, yes, but not when he hurt the few people he actually cared about.

Hilda must have caught something on his face, for her own smoothed out. “Ugh, whatever. Gimme your little finger.”

He did just that. Hilda wiggled the brush in the bottle and got to work.  _ “Anyway,”  _ she continued. “Marianne’s cute, messy hair or not, and when she smiles, I  _ swear,  _ Claude, it’s brighter than the sun. It makes my chest all giddy and light inside. And the  _ butterflies  _ in my stomach!”

“...That, uh, sounds concerning.”

She stuck her tongue out, then her face grew serious. “...Do you not like girls or something? You know that liking someone who’s the same as you is perfectly fine, right? It’s not, like, as  _ common  _ or anything, but it’s definitely allowed.” She finished off his nail with a hum. “The church’s archbishops have always been women, and several of them had wives.”

“For people without Crests, maybe. But what about those who do?”

“Eh.” Hilda shrugged. “It’s really only the Faerghus folks who kick up a huge fuss about Crests nowadays. I mean, I imagine  _ you  _ probably have some pressure, given I highly doubt your grandfather’s gonna have another kid—”

_ “Please  _ do not make me imagine that.”

Hilda cackled, then quickly quietened. “But if you like guys, there’s always other options. Adoption, surrogacy… I’m pretty sure I overheard that in Adrestia, they’re actually doing research into magic that creates children especially for people like you. All of that is  _ waaaaay  _ over my head, but it exists!” She leaned back, admiring Claude’s nails in her hand before letting go. Her fingers were pale, but several calluses and bumps were visible on her palm. She looked up at him. “You should be free to love who you want, Claude. Since when do  _ you  _ ever stick to the conventional way of doing things, anyway?”

_ Bless her,  _ was all Claude could think. Hilda had such an unique talent of always being so supportive but always managing to be so horribly  _ off-base. _

“...What if you don’t want anyone at all?” he murmured. “What then?”

“Huh?” Her brush paused mid-air. “Why  _ wouldn’t  _ you want anyone?”

“I mean…” He tried to push aside the hurt pulsing in his chest, but it was easier said than done. Given how often he’d had to do so, he thought it’d come naturally by now. It only got more difficult each time. It was like festering scar tissue, becoming thicker and heavier with each fresh wound. When would it refuse to heave, he wondered.

But that wasn’t important now. “I don’t know,” he said with a small laugh. “Everyone just seems so -  _ obsessed  _ with romance. With wanting somebody. Aren’t there other things to worry about?”

“Stop  _ smiling,”  _ Hilda hissed. “And, duh, but. I dunno. It’s just nice to lose yourself in daydreams.”

“...Uh-huh.”

“Look.” Hilda rested the bottle on the ground next to her. “I’m not saying I understand not being interested at  _ all,  _ but you do you. I don’t need to understand it to know that it happens, right? I’ll always support you, Claude.”

“I - didn’t say that I was like that. I was just wondering. But - thanks, Hilda,” he rushed out, words tripping over themselves. His stomach was churning and it  _ definitely  _ wasn’t because of butterflies. He felt raw and exposed, like somebody had peeled a layer of his flesh off, and he’d barely said anything at all. Hadn’t said anything about the  _ loneliness  _ and  _ oddness  _ he felt so often. He thought he’d rather throw up. He jutted out his other hand. “You gotta do both of 'em, remember? Can’t go around with just one painted.”

Hilda tutted, but she didn’t push. He didn’t know if he was relieved or upset.

Her fingers grasped his own and tugged them towards her. “Same colour?”

“Yeah.”

She gave him a long look, before sighing and reaching for her bottle of nail varnish. She didn’t seem talkative, which Claude felt a bit guilty for, but he was also grateful.

He was content to stare out at the lake, watching students chatter and fish. Hilda didn’t speak a word as she worked. It would have almost been peaceful, were it not for that nagging sense of wrongness that weighed down Claude’s every breath. His mind twisted and tied itself into knots, leaving him with question upon question and no answers at all.

* * *

Most of their house had taken up several tables in the library, shoving them together so that they could all study for the fist fighting exam. However, what with the upcoming White Heron Ball, any attempts at actual studying were soon forsaken. When Lysithea’s hair looked ready to somehow whiten even further, Claude held his hand up.

“I think we’re all gonna fail this,” he said, “and I think we’re all too preoccupied with the ball to focus on it, yeah? So why not just talk about that?”

“Easy for you to say!” Lysithea spat. “Why is the professor making our entire class take it?” She had special circumstances taken into consideration with any physical exam, given that she struggled to lift anything heavier than a wooden sword, so her words  _ did  _ make sense. And, considering recent events at Remire, everyone’s morale had been shot to ribbons. It was near impossible, even for Claude, to focus on exams and classes, not when there were orphans and adults in tore clothing haunting every corner and every room you went into. People who were meant to be ghosts, but were all too real. Even the library itself, which was supposed to be off-limits to the general public, had a few children running in and out of it. Nobody had the heart to tell them off.

It was strange, but their professor had always been a bit odd. Maybe they just hadn’t taken recent events into consideration. It wouldn’t be the first time somebody had to gently remind them that other people felt emotions, some of them very strongly.

Then again, that was harsh of him. The professor  _ had  _ been opening up, ever so slightly.

No, not opening up, per say…  _ Learning. _

Fingers snapped in front of him. “Claaaaaude!” Hilda called, and it took him a split second to realise that, yes,  _ that _ was his name. He really must have been missing out on sleep if he’d forgotten  _ that. _

“Claude?”

“Sorry, sorry!” He gave a sheepish smile. “Just thinking.”

“Are you ever  _ not  _ thinking?" She went back to filing her nails, but not before giving him a look he couldn't decipher.

Claude smiled and leaned across the table. "Hey, Leonie. How's the dancing training going?"

_"Real_ smooth, Claude,” whispered Hilda's flat voice, but they all turned to a surprised Leonie, so he considered it a success.

Leonie snorted. She rested an elbow on the table and dropped her chin on her hand.  _ “Terrible!  _ I really don’t get why the professor picked  _ me.  _ Do I look like a gentle flower? Do I  _ look  _ like I have the slightest idea of how to dance?” She gave a wistful smile. “Sure, back in the village, we’d often do dances around the fire and such… but I’ve never done  _ noble  _ dancing. Pretty sure if I shot my skirt up and started stomping I’d get kicked out of the academy!”

Lorenz almost choked on his tea, his face going as bright as the rose so delicately pinned to his breast. Hilda leaned over her chair, ready to slap his back and potentially dislocate his spine, but he waggled his hand at her furiously as he splattered and hacked all over a poor book’s innocent pages.

When he was done, Claude leaned forward with a grin. “Doesn’t seem very polite to cough like that without covering your mouth, huh?”

Leonie snorted. Tentative smiles came from both Ignatz and Marianne. Hilda bit her lip to stop her cackle, while Raphael just blinked. Lysithea rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as well.

“You - you -  _ you!”  _ Lorenz squawked. “You, of  _ all  _ people, accusing  _ me  _ of having poor manners? Why, I—”

“I think you’ll be a lovely dancer, Leonie,” Marianne said quietly. There was a slight blush on her cheeks as her fingers tangled in her skirt. “If… if you need help, I could help? Maybe.” She ducked her head. “A-actually, never mind, I don’t—”

“I’d love your help!” Leonie exclaimed. “You’re always so  _ beautiful,  _ and—”

“Trust me, you’ll  _ want  _ me there,” Hilda drawled. “Marianne’d trip over the air itself if she could.”

When Hilda’s gaze landed on Marianne, it softened considerably.  _ There it is,  _ Claude thought, his heart panging.  _ That feeling I can’t understand. _

“S-sorry…”

“Hey, don’t apologise!” Hilda cooed. “It’s  _ adorable!  _ And we all have our flaws, Marianne! If the worst of yours is being clumsy, you’re doing amazing.”

“Well, I wouldn’t…”

“Our exam isn’t until a couple of days,” Claude interrupted gently before Marianne could lead herself down another rabbit trail of self-loathing. "So why don't we  _ all  _ meet up tomorrow and help Leonie with her dancing?"

A chorus of murmurs and tentative agreements reached his ears. Claude leaned back in his seat and slung an arm over the back, letting their words wash over him.

“W-who do you want to dance with at the ball?” Ignatz asked.

“All you guys, of course!” Raphael boomed with a beam.

“...Anyone  _ else?”  _ Lorenz finished weakly.

“Huh…” Raphael frowned. Even with all the wrinkles and stress lines he had despite his youth, he looked more friendlier than the softest of teddy bears. “Nah!” How he always sounded so  _ cheerful,  _ Claude did not know. “I’m not really into that kinda stuff.”

Damn his traitorous heart, and how it began to thud against the bones of his chest. Was Raphael like him? Was there somebody else on this forsaken continent that felt the same way he did? Was he no longer alone? Was—

_ Stop it.  _ **_Stop it._ ** _ Stop hoping. _

He forced himself to listen. He hadn’t realised he’d spaced out yet again, but Hilda was giving him a concerned look that no one else seemed to have caught onto.

“...Nobody at all?” Lysithea asked. She seemed more curious than indignant. Merely wanting to know.

“Nobody at all!” Raphael grinned. “I just wanna look after my sister, y’know? But I think even if I  _ didn’t  _ hafta do that, I wouldn’t be interested. I dunno. I just - don’t  _ get  _ it. When you guys talk about your crushes or who you wanna kiss, I’m just kinda there noddin’ my head, even though I don’t get it at all.”

Hilda’s gaze became razor sharp. It didn't leave Claude.

“Forgive my ignorance,” Lorenz said, stretching his hand out. The tea in his cup swished. “But how do you know you simply haven’t met a suitable person yet?”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure I woulda felt  _ something  _ by now.”

“Hmm…” Lorenz leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the over. Much to Claude’s immediate relief, he didn’t push the subject. “I may not understand, but… do what you desire, Raphael. The prospect of needing a romantic partner to be satisfied needn’t fit everyone.”

“Isn’t it taught in the church that we’ll all eventually find happiness with another?” Leonie asked. “Some ‘two hearts will become one and ascend to the same star’ or some crap like that?”

“Leonie!” Marianne gasped. “I-is it a good idea to say that while inside the church..?”

Leonie, fearless as ever, just shrugged. “Hey! If you believe in it, that’s fine! Just don’t shove it down everyone's throats. I am  _ sick  _ of hearing about all these rumours about the Goddess Tower. Sure, I've seen some pretty people, but all everyone seems to talk about is marriage and romance. We're kids!" A pause. "Mostly."

“I don’t think it sounds so bad,” Ignatz murmured. “It’s rather lovely, in its own way. Knowing that there’s somebody out there, who will love you for who you are. You, and nobody else…”

The nip of Lysithea’s quill snapped under her hand. It was a deafening sound, one that dropped them all into silence.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. Her hand was trembling. “Just…”

Claude’s heart ached. He could see her eyes squeezed shut, so intensely that she  _ had  _ to be driving back tears, and made to speak before anyone else could.

“I’m amazed you guys  _ have  _ enough time to talk about romance and all of that lovey-dovey stuff!” he exclaimed. He ignored Lysithea staring at him from beside him. “I know  _ I _ sure don’t.”

“You haven’t thought about it?” Ignatz asked. “Not even a bit?”

“As much as I am loath to admit it, _you_ are the future duke!” Lorenz cried. "Producing an heir is—” A loud bang from under the table. Lorenz let out a pained squeak. Beside him, Leonie was looking equal parts smug and irritated. "My _foot!"_

"Nothin' you didn't deserve."

"Why in the goddess's name would I—"

Lysithea’s hand squeezed Claude’s arm. She still wasn’t looking up, but Claude couldn’t help his smile.

“...Thank you.”

“No problem,” he whispered. Then, louder, to everyone else: “Lorenz, I just turned eighteen. I am  _ not  _ worrying about popping out babies.”

Ignatz’s face went bright red. Marianne blinked. Hilda exploded into cackles.

“You needn’t word it like that-!”

“If you’re so worried, produce some kids for me!”

_ “How dare you—” _

"E- _ nough!"  _ Hilda slapped her hand against the table. They all immediately quietened; were it not for the fact that the monastery no longer  _ had _ a librarian, they almost certainly would have been kicked out by now. Hilda gave Claude a sickly sweet smile. "Claude,  _ please _ do continue."

"I, uh, was not aware I had anything else to say."

"Of  _ course  _ you do!" she drawled in that sugary voice that only ever forebode trouble. "You don't have a crush on anybody?"

...Damn her.

"Honestly, I… I think I kinda get Raphael,” he said quietly. As soon as he felt seven pairs of eyes snap onto him, he gave a nervous laugh, grinning and rubbing his neck. “I mean, who knows! Maybe I just haven’t met ‘a suitable person’ yet!” Lorenz flushed red yet again, but he didn’t squawk at Claude. “But… I don’t know. I sure haven’t met them yet, if they’re out there."

"Do you  _ believe _ they're out there?" Ignatz asked. Claude shook his head before he could stop himself.

“It's like what Raphael said. Pretty sure I would have felt  _ something  _ by now, you know?”

“I never knew you and I were so alike, Claude!” Raphael said with a smile that stretched his cheeks.

“Yeah… who’d have thought?”

“It’s ridiculous, anyway, people who say you can only love your blood family and like,  _ one  _ other person,” Leonie said. She flicked off the table the quill tip Lysithea had snapped earlier.

Marianne, of all people, gave a furious nod. “I agree. There are so many little things I love. Things that help make each day a bit more bearable, a bit easier to breathe…” Hilda’s hand squeezed her bicep. Marianne smiled at her. “Love shouldn’t be saved just for romance.”

“Hear, hear!” Leonie called. "Who says you need a partner anyway? We all love each other here, right?"

_ "Do  _ we?"

"Yes, Hilda, we do." Leonie grinned. "As messy as we all are, I wouldn't have you guys any other way. You're like a big family to me! A  _ disastrous _ one, but hey! That just makes it even better."

"...I wouldn't want to be in any other house," Lorenz said quietly, fiddling with his teacup handle and refusing to look at any of them. "Somehow, you lot have an - irrefutable charm."

"Lorenz, that is the  _ nicest  _ thing you've ever said about us!" Hilda cried. She laid down her nail file. "But I agree, honestly. I'll take you guys over my actual big brother  _ any  _ day of the week - no offense to Holst."

"I'm… glad to be with you," Marianne murmured. She looked up, gaze suddenly determined. "I feel like… I'm becoming better as a person. That I'm not as terrible as I think I am. That's a good thing, right?"

"Of course it is!" Ignatz said. "And I feel the same! Looking at the other houses, I don't think I'd have grown as much as I have here. It  _ is  _ possible to be an artist and a knight, I'm sure."

"Of course it is, Ignatz!" Raphael yelled. He slapped his friend's back with raucous laughter and wrinkling eyes. Ignatz wheezed; for a second, Claude was worried that he'd have to burst out what little faith magic he knew. "We're all here helpin' each other! If that ain't a family, I don't know what is!"

"...You guys could be worse," Lysithea murmured, twisting her quill between her fingers. "I'm - I'm glad to spend what little time I do have with you."

When Claude didn’t speak - or  _ couldn’t,  _ really, not with the strange lump that had suddenly made itself at home in his throat - he saw them all turn to him. If his eyes were stinging - well. None of them would bring it up.

“Man,” he eventually said, “if you told me at the start of the year that we’d be this close, I’d have laughed.”

“Indeed,” Lorenz agreed.  _ Agreed!  _ With Claude! Today was becoming stranger and stranger by the second.

“Thanks, guys,” Claude whispered. “Really. It… it means a lot.”

Because it did. None of them had condemned him or scowled at him in disgust. Neither had they dismissed it entirely.  _ Yes,  _ it was a part of him. It wasn’t a broken part. He was fine just the way he was.

Maybe it wasn’t something he’d ever fully understand. But it wasn’t something he  _ needed  _ to fully understand, to experience so that he could act and pretend that he belonged. He didn’t  _ need  _ to pretend; he belonged here, with the rest of his Golden Deer, just as he was right now.

And that was enough. That was  _ more  _ than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm currently having a giveaway for 400 followers on twitter (ends 17th april 2020)! if you're interested,   
> [feel free to check out my twitter!!](https://twitter.com/greenpiggles) i basically slurp tellius loving juice 24/7
> 
> if you enjoyed the fic, please consider leaving kudos and/or comments!! they mean so much, thank you!! have a wonderful day! <3


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